#let elippo rise

[azozzoni]

could i bribe you into writing more elippo with telling you it'd make my quarantined ass happy while reading it ?

Bribe me with comments and reblogs ;) that’s all it takes.

*

Wiping the sheen of sweat off his brow, Elia sighed, watching the hem of the curtains moving in the feeble breeze coming from the fan in the corner.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, blinking at the ceiling, lit up only by the sun outside. The lights were off, the living room bathed in shadows but it was still ridiculously warm even as he lay on the hard wood floor. “I would give anything for some air conditioning.”

“Repair guy said he was coming,” Filippo said from beside Elia, eyes closed, hand on his stomach, as though he was actually enjoying this.

“Before next century?” Elia didn’t know how long it had been since Filippo had pulled him down on the floor, saying it would be cooler somehow. Elia wasn’t sure why he’d believed that.

“You know what sounds good right now?” Filippo said, ignoring Elia’s sarcasm. Elia sighed in response, shoving his hair off his sticky forehead. The fan in the corner wasn’t nearly strong enough to blow away the hot, thick air swirling around them.

“Cold air.”

“Gelato,” Filippo said with a soft hum. “Ice cold, dripping through your fingers, sticky and wet and delicious.”

Elia blinked slowly at the ceiling. He wasn’t thinking about gelato as Filippo spoke, his mind wandering to other things wet and sticky. Fuck, though, it was way too hot to be thinking of that shit. Elia was pretty sure if he tried to move, he’d be stuck to the floor.

He wasn’t sure where Eleonora had run off to--probably somewhere that wasn’t ridiculously hot. Elia wasn’t sure why they couldn’t do that, why they were stuck waiting for the repair man.

“You’re sticky,” Filippo said, breaking Elia out of his thoughts, hazy and tired, as though the heat was weighing him down. He barely glanced over at Filippo’s finger tracing up his arm.

“It’s hot,” Elia said, as if Filippo didn’t know. As if the apples of his cheeks weren’t pink, a flush crawling up his neck.

“You can go if you want,” Filippo said after a minute, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “Call Marti and see if his A/C is working.”

A part of Elia wanted to. He wanted so badly to not be sweating anymore, aching for some kind of relief that the pitiful fan was not providing. He could just leave, leave Filippo waiting for some guy who may or may not show up for hours. If he wanted to, he could have done it hours ago when Filippo had rolled him out of bed and announced the A/C was out.

But he was still here, his shirt discarded a long time ago, down to his boxers as he rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at Filippo.

Filippo didn’t open his eyes, almost appearing asleep as Elia let his eyes graze over his shoulders, down his chest, the fox tattooed on his ribcage, the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his underwear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said finally, brushing Filippo’s hair behind his ears. He’d been letting it grow out lately, starting to curl again, the bleach at the tips fading back to brown. Elia found he liked it this way, but then, he liked pretty much everything about Filippo.

Filippo’s eyes opened slowly, a smile curving his lips after a second. “Who knew you were so whipped.”

“Whipped?” Elia repeated, skeptical, but he didn’t pull away from Filippo, instead letting his fingers trail down his neck, leaving tracks in the sheen of sweat there. “I’m not staying for you.”

“Oh?” Filippo asked, curious eyebrows rising, like it he knew it was all bullshit.

“You know this is the first time we’ve had the apartment to ourselves in weeks. Since Edo left for the US?”

Filippo smiled knowingly. “Yeah,” he agreed, taking a deep breath as Elia’s fingers slid over his collar bone. Leaning into Elia, close enough that their noses bumped together, he tilted his head to the side, just enough that it would be so easy for Elia to kiss him. “Thought you were hot?”

He was. He was so fucking hot. But he was also very aware that Eleonora was gone and Filippo was wearing only a pair of boxers shorts, and well, they’d never fucked in the living room before and Elia wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.

“Maybe I want to be hotter,” he murmured as he closed what little distance there was between them, kissing Filippo easily, opening his mouth to Filippo’s, tongue sliding past his teeth as he rolled into him.

It was sticky skin, hot and flushed before they’d even begun, Elia’s hands anchoring in Filippo’s hair as they kissed, slow and languid, something aching in his chest when Filippo’s hands landed on his hips. 

Elia was going to make this good. He was going to make himself forget about the heat and how much he just wanted an ice cold shower. He was going to get his hand in between them, wrapped around Filippo, make him come with just his tongue.

Filippo’s soft exhale in his ear made Elia groan, biting at his jaw, hand gliding down Filippo’s stomach.

A knock on the door made Elia curse, almost disappointed when Filippo pulled away from his mouth. 

“That must be the repair guy,” Filippo said, patting Elia’s cheek with a slight smirk. “Keep that thought, okay?”

Elia certainly would, he thought as Filippo pushed himself up from the floor and pulled his shirt back on. Instead of getting up, Elia let out a breath and sunk back on the floor as Filippo let the guy in. He’d get something he wanted, one way or another.

[ayellowcurtain]

elippo

“I don't think it’s serious...”

“No, Marti, I’m telling you the Contrabbandieri is dying. Me and Luca are the leftovers.”

“Who is the leftover?” Marti turns around as Filippo’s arm comes around his shoulders, Martino hugs his friend and then lets him do the same with Nico. But Filippo is waiting for his answer, looking at Elia. 

“I am. ...Elia.” They shake hands, Filippo smiles at him and Elia feels weird, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Everyone is in a relationship and we’re the two left behind...” Luchino explains as he introduces himself as well and shakes hands with Filippo. 

“Well, I’m sure it’s because you guys are being picky.” everyone laughs, talking about how Luchino would make out with a wall if the guys let him, but Filo is watching Elia and Elia is not avoiding his gaze either, drinking while looking at Filippo. 

-

Eleonora left the party way too early, now the sun is rising and Filippo is finally out of whoever house he was in, getting used to the bright sunlight and the cold air of the early hours of the day. It’s a beautiful day, blue sky, a mist still holding the cold breeze in the atmosphere. 

Filippo has his cigarette in between his lips, looking for his lighter but he must have lost it or borrowed to someone who never gave it back. He notices hands coming in front of his face, he recognizes the clothes, letting the person light his cigarette, a hand in front of the fire so the breeze would let him come closer and light his cigar. 

While he pulls the smoke in for the first time, he’s finally able to stand and look who it is. 

The colors of the sunrise make Elia’s skin look so good, Filo can almost taste it in his mouth, he can imagine Elia combing his hair back all night long from the way his hair is looking now, he’s also smoking, standing in front of Filo, his eyes looking tired, inviting, drunk. Filippo could get used to seeing this first thing in the morning. 

“Going home?” Elia shrugs, seems unsure about it, closing his jacket while he holds the cigarette in between his beautiful lips. 

“Want to go to mine?” Elia looks at him again with more intent this time. From what he heard about Elia the last two weeks, he’s being way too quiet now and Filippo liked his voice when he heard it. 

“I’ll go to yours if I can kiss you.” Filippo was caught off guard, in shook for a few seconds, but not helping the smile that comes up his lips. That’s more like the Elia that he heard from the others. 

He doesn’t know if Elia is serious or just way too drunk and horny, but he’ll gladly play along if he can get Elia in his bed today. 

“You can do a lot more if you really want to.” Elia smiles a little, not taking his eyes off Filo’s and he finally nods, agreeing. 

“Let’s go then.” Filo starts walking on the empty sidewalk and Elia follows, walking by his side, not leaving much space between them. 

[stephanleyhes]

I can believe that I’m actually posting my own writing here. This is my second time ever writing in English, so if you see any big(!) mistakes, pls let me know :)

This Elippo fic is basically about Elia feeling awkward seeing Filippo for the first time after their hookups. I was talking about this with @filipposavva and I wanted to write a fic about it so I did. 

Elia froze the minute he saw Filippo behind Martino. 'Why is he here.. of course he is here, he is close to both Marti and Nico' Elia's thoughts kept running wild. He glanced at Filippo direction, then at Gio and Luca, who were immersed into a game of FIFA. Elia didn't know how to act. How can he act natural around Filippo, after what they have been doing behind his friends back. ” Everything okay?” He suddenly heard Nico's voice right beside him. ” Yeah, why?” ” You have been staring at the door for a good while now” Nico laughed and sat beside Elia. Martino and Filippo moved from the front door to living room, filling the area with excited chattering. There was no sitting places left, so Martino sat in front of Nico's legs. That left just Filippo standing alone between the two full couches. He looked briefly at Elia, then to the floor, and decided to sit down on the floor, little farther away from Elia. Elia wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved of Filippo's decision. ” Is the game over soon, so we can actually watch something good from the tv?” Martino asked, throwing a pillow at Gio. He got no answer from the two boys playing. ” 2 minutes left” Filippo answered instead. ”Okay, after that we start with this film that someone here really wanted us to watch” Martino murmured, getting slight hit to the head form Niccolo. Elia couldn't help but feel little jealous of the pair. He wished we could have similar familiarity with someone too.

Three hours went before Elia and Filippo bumped into each other for the first time that night. Elia had done the best he could to ignore Filippo, but still couldn't help glazing quickly at Filippo. From time to time he could feel Filippo staring at him, making Elia feel hot all over. He had spent most of his night talking with Niccolo, which didn't happen that often. His deep chat had made him miss Filippo getting up and he didn't notice him being gone until he walked straight into Filippo's chest while checking his phone on his way to toilet. ”Oh, sorry” Elia said, lowering his head while feeling the blush rising. ”No worries, I like having you this close” Filippo winked. That only made Elia's blush worse. Filippo laughed, and took a step back, still looking at Elia. The movement made Elia realize that he had just stood there, against Filippo's chest. ”I really need to go to the toilet” he said, and half run past Filippo to bathroom. After closing the door behind him, Elia took couple of deep breaths against the bathroom door. 'Why am i acting like a teenage girl with a crush”. Before he left the bathroom he made sure he washed his face with cold water and tried to collect himself. 'Calm down, people are going to notice.” When he returned the living room, Filippo was already sitting in the spot where he had sat before, talking to Niccolo about who knows what. Martino and Gio had also moved and were talking in front of the front door. ”Leaving already?” Elia asked. ”Yeah, need to wake up early tomorrow. Date with Sofia!” Gio said happily, before giving both Elia and Martino a goodbye hug.

After the door closed, Elia and Martino stood side by side behind the couch. He could feel Martino staring at him worried look on his face. ”Elia, are you alright?” He asked. Elia glanced at Filippo, and suddenly he felt like he needed to talk to Martino about what was going on. But not here, not now with everybody there. ”Everything’s fine”. Elia felt Martino lifting his arm and was soon pull againts Martino's side. ”You can talk to me anytime, you know that right?” Elia turned his face towards Martino, gave a short nod and smiled. Martino moved to sit on Niccolo's lap, and Elia sat down on Gio's empty spot. He spent rest of his night in that spot, listening mostly Luca rambling about different girls.  

It was close to midnight when Martino decided that it was time for the rest of the boys to leave, and give him and Niccolo some peace. Luca was already half way down the stairs when Filippo and Elia finally closed the front door of Niccolo's apartment. Elia walked down the stairs silently beside Filippo, glancing him from time to time, not knowing what to say or do. When they got ouside the apartment building, Elia wasn't still hadn't decided what to do, should he just go home or did Filippo want to talk. ”We should try to be less awkward in future”, Elia slowly turned to look at Filippo, ”people will start to picking up something going on otherwise”, Filippo continued. Elia was able only to nod slowly. Suddenly Filippo laughed out loud, shaking his head. ”Maybe it would be easier if we just stopped spending time together”. That woke up Elia from his little coma. ”No no, I can be normal. We can still continue” he took hold of Filippo's hands. Filippo lifted his head and looked at Elia, warmt in his eyes. ”I mean it would be more suspicious if we suddenly started to avoid each other”. Filippo nodded slowly, and for a while they just stood there, breathing in the night air hand in hand. ”Ele is at Edoardo's place, you could come to mine” Filippo suggested, let Elia's hands go, and started to walk slowly towards his own apartment. It took Elia a few seconds to realise what Filippo had asked. He took his phone out, wrote a quick text to his mother, telling her he would not be home tonight, and then ran blissfully after Filippo, smile on his face.  

.....................................

”Was it just me, or was Elia very quiet today?” Niccolo thought out loud after the boys had left. ”No, I noticed too”, Martino answered. ”I told him that he can talk to any of us if he needs to”. Niccolo nodded while collecting the final empty plates from the living room table. ”Maybe we need to go to Bracciano again to solve this” they laughed together.

[paaveihjem-blog]

La verità è che mi preparo prima le ff da postare strategicamente quando mi manca leggere di determinate coppie.

[azozzoni]

My last contribution to our elippo party! This one is for all the Italians: I hope you’re okay and you’re making the most of being at home. Stay healthy! - Beware, there is smut ahead.

*

“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” Elia asked from where he lay, head hanging off the end of Filippo’s bed, barely suppressing his yawn as the felt the mattress bounce underneath him and Filippo crawled up beside him.

“Bored of my company already?”

Rolling his eyes, Elia smiled at Filippo, scooting back so his head wasn’t hanging off the end. “Just wondering how long the country is going to be in quarantine.”

He supposed he was lucky Filippo hadn’t said no to the idea of Elia joining him during the quarantine, or more lucky that Eleonora hadn’t nixed the idea. He doubted Filippo would have said no either way.

“Try to think of it as an extended vacation,” Filippo said easily, brushing Elia’s hair over his ear. It was messy, curling around his ear, falling over his forehead, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brushed it. “I am.”

Sighing, Elia pushed himself up, rolling on top of Filippo instead. Filippo merely watched him do it, tugging at his lip ring as though curious where Elia was going with this.

“You know what most people do on vacation,” Elia said, letting his gaze fall down Filippo’s chest, the v-neck tee shirt that was entirely too low-cut for a guy, frayed at the hem as Elia slid his hand to Filippo’s waist. It had been three days already of staying home, not going out, spending most of their time watching movies or watching Filippo work on his projects for class that Elia couldn’t help him with. Elia had studying to do, but he certainly didn’t plan to do it while the whole country was in the throws of chaos.

“Drink way too much, take cliche pictures, and complain about how much their feet hurt,” Filippo answered with a knowing smirk.

“Asshole,” Elia said, swatting at Filippo’s stomach, but he didn’t complain when Filippo’s hands pushed under the hem of his shirt, smooth fingers grazing up his sides, the bite of his nails at the back of his hips.

“Why don’t you tell me what they do,” Filippo said after a minute, licking his lips slowly, pushing his hips up just enough that Elia could feel his rising interest.

Light fell through the crack in the curtains, grey and diffused, a soft glow on Filippo’s face as he gazed up at Elia, a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he liked teasing Elia like this.

“Well, usually it’s in an expensive hotel room instead of a room with clothes all over the floor,” Elia said, glancing around obviously. Not that he minded. Filippo’s room felt lived in--organized chaos, Filo called it whenever Eleonora complained. “With candles and rose petals and fancy lube.”

Filippo grinned, sliding his hands up Elia’s back a bit more, a shiver racing up Elia’s spine at his touch. “Do you need rose petals, Eli?”

Elia shrugged vaguely. They weren’t exactly the romantic couple, not like Marti and Nico, who were probably snuggled together on their couch right now, having a Wes Anderson marathon, planning out their future. Elia was more concerned with the present and how easily Filippo was pushing his shirt up, exposing his stomach to Filippo’s gaze.

“I’d rather have the lube,” he said honestly, leaning down to tug up Filippo’s shirt, pressing his mouth to the curve of Filippo’s hip.

“Keep going,” Filippo breathed as Elia pressed open-mouthed kisses to his skin, shoving his shirt up his chest. “What else do people do on vacation?”

Pausing, Elia’s eyes grazed up Filippo’s stomach, the owl tattoo on his side, the scar from where he had his appendix out many years ago.

“They take their shirts off,” Elia said finally, licking up Filippo’s hipbone, only moving back to let Filippo pull his shirt over his head and toss it away. Elia did the same with Filippo’s, meeting Filippo’s expectant gaze.

“That’s smart of them,” Filippo said, tugging Elia up so they were face to face, lips hovering centimeters from each other.

Swallowing, Elia nodded, heat spreading down his neck, over his shoulder blades, deep into his stomach as they lingered there.

It didn’t surprise Elia anymore, how much he liked this, Filippo’s grip tight on the back of his neck, the rough scrape of Filippo’s stubble on his cheek when he closed the distance to kiss him. It didn’t surprise him when Filippo bit down on his lower lip, almost painful, a slick slide of his tongue in Elia’s mouth, hot and heavy and far from romantic.

Fingers in Filippo’s hair, Elia shoved him down, pinned to the mattress, straddling his waist and kissing him hard. People probably did this on vacation, Elia thought as Filippo’s hands moved to his shoulder blades, fingernails digging into the skin. They probably did this in dirty hotel rooms and club bathrooms, and maybe even in those pristine hotels with pure white sheets and shampoo that smelled like coconuts.

“Do they keep their pants on?” Filippo asked as Elia pressed kisses down his neck, pausing to suck a mark on his collarbone just for good measure. No one but him and Eleonora would see anyway.

“We could try it that way,” Elia replied with a cheeky smirk up at Filippo.

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” Filippo pointed out, shifting underneath Elia, pressing their hips together, and Elia’s breath caught in his throat at the heat, Filippo’s dick hard against his.

“You’re not even wearing pants,” Elia said, but he reached for Filippo’s boxers anyway.

He didn’t tug them down yet, though, pausing as Filippo watched him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you need help?” Filippo teased, biting down on his lip ring as Elia took a breath and shook his head.

“Just thinking about the fastest way to make you come,” he said finally, pressing a hard kiss to Filippo’s chest. He felt Filippo’s groan, the way he arched into the touch.

Filippo’s fingers buried themselves in Elia’s hair, grip achingly tight, but Elia didn’t let himself get distracted. This was how he liked it, with Filippo underneath him, pliant to his every move, spreading his legs for Elia to settle between them, slide his tongue down his abs, suck a mark into his hip bone as Filippo breathed out slowly above him.

They’d been stuck in the apartment for days already, and no matter how many times they did this, it still felt so good. It was heat and pressure and slick tongues, bruising fingers, panted breath in the dim light, Filippo kissing Elia until Elia’s lips were sore, his fingers slick inside him, making him come just from that.

Filippo was hard when Elia finally slid his boxers down his thighs, taking his time admiring the view, fingers gliding up the hard length, not taking too long before following his fingers with his tongue.

He could draw it out, Elia thought as he took Filippo in his mouth, moved slowly as Filippo sighed above him. He could take his time sucking him off, use every trick he knew until Filippo was straining to come, body hot and aching. Elia wasn’t sure he could wait that long, though, wait that long to get Filippo’s hands on him in return, Filippo’s tongue sliding in his ear in that way that always made Elia’s knees go weak.

“Eli,” Filippo breathed as Elia mouthed over the ridges on his cock, licked up the length and took the tip in his mouth.

Filippo’s hands tightened in his hair, a sharp tug that made Elia gasp. He could feel the blood rushing to his prick, hot and throbbing as he pushed Filippo’s legs open, smoothing his hands up the backs of his thighs. He knew Filippo liked it from the way he groaned, pushed his hips up.

Mouth slick, Elia moved in deeper, trying not to choke as he took Filippo in as far as he could.

“Fuck,” he heard Filippo say, and he had to pull back, sucking in a breath, taking his time licking over Filippo’s cock, hard and hot against his lips, feeling the pulse of blood.

He was close, Elia could tell. He could tell from the way Filippo’s breath came shorter, his fingers twining in Elia’s hair, yanking as his hips jerked. It was too hot, blood flooding Elia’s cock, a pulse deep in his stomach as he brought Filippo off, lavishing attention on his prick, sucking until Filippo cursed and jerked his head back.

“Fuck, Eli, wait,” Filippo said, holding Elia at arm’s length, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What?” Frowning, Elia wiped his mouth, watching Filippo, confused.

Filippo smirked after a second, though, hauling Elia up before rolling him over. “How about that fancy lube?”

Elia wasn’t sure what Filippo was talking about, tilting his head to the side as Filippo left him lying at the end of the bed, cock annoyingly hard still, and he pushed at it for a second, wishing Filippo would just come back.

He did come back, twirling a black tube that Elia had never seen before.

“What’s that?” he asked as Filippo pulled down Elia’s pants, leaving them on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

“It’s not exactly rose petals,” Filippo said, rolling on a condom as Elia watched.

Swallowing, Elia wasn’t sure he cared what it was as Filippo flipped the lid and coated his fingers. At the first push, Elia couldn’t help his curse, eyes shooting open at the warm tingling sensation deep inside his body.

“Holy fuck,” he said, gasping as he lifted his hips for Filippo’s fingers. “Where have you been hiding that?”

“Not hiding,” Filippo said, smoothing Elia’s legs back, scooting in against him, and Elia bit his lip at the first press of his cock. “Waiting.”

“For what?” Elia asked, out of breath as Filippo slid inside, so hard, so full. Everything tingled, sharp and tight, so good as they moved together.

“A worldwide pandemic,” Filippo joked, biting his lip as he pushed in, bodies rocking together, a slow fuck that made the world slow down as Elia shut his eyes, focusing on the slide of Filippo inside him, his hands on Filippo’s thighs, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Fuck,” Elia breathed again, and for a second, he forgot. He forgot that they were stuck in the house, that they shouldn’t leave, what was going on outside. The only thing that mattered was Filippo fucking him until he came so hard he couldn’t think straight.

“I bet people do this on vacation,” Filippo said, leaning in, Elia’s legs wrapped around his back, a sloppy kiss pressed to Elia’s chin, another to his cheek until Elia moved, capturing his mouth for a hot, slick kiss, moan muffled against Filippo’s lips.

“Yeah,” Elia agreed, breathless, panting as he held Filippo close, their skin sweaty and warm, a blush on Filippo’s collarbone, pink and splotchy as Elia dragged him into another kiss as a ripple of heat clenched in his stomach.

He was going to come. He wasn’t going to last, not with the pressure of Filippo’s cock inside him, the unbearably hot tingling of the lube, blood throbbing in his dick. Biting at Filippo’s jaw, Elia took a sharp breath, fingers wrapped around Filippo’s neck, tight, bruising his skin as he came, hot and sticky on Filippo’s stomach.

“Elia,” Filippo breathed, hips pushing inside him, a bit less finessed, rougher now, a desperation Elia wasn’t used to.

He kept Filippo close, peppering kisses down his neck until Filippo came, hips stiffening, face sinking into Elia’s shoulder as he breathed, shaky.

Sighing, Elia sunk into the mattress, Filippo still on top of him, hair damp with sweat, and he let his fingers rake through Filippo’s.

It wasn’t so bad, being stuck at home, especially when Filippo rolled off him with a sigh but kept his hand on Elia’s stomach, tracing absent shapes on his skin.

“Maybe when this is over, we should go somewhere,” Filippo said thoughtfully, and Elia glanced over, surprised.

“Like a vacation?”

They’d never talked about that, about going away together. This quarantine was the most time they’d spent together consecutively ever, and Elia was honestly surprised they were doing so well with it. He’d kind of expected Filippo to get annoyed with him after day two.

“Yeah,” Filippo said with an amused smile at the surprise in Elia’s voice. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“No.” Elia shrugged.

“Great pastries, good clubs, and lots of rose petals.” Filippo grinned at him as Elia laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“Then I guess we have to go.”

“Yep,” was all Filippo said with a sigh, and Elia grinned as he lay back. Maybe they’d go to Paris once this was over, but for now, Elia was content to stay right here on their own little island.

[azozzoni]

Elippo Week Day 1: Secret Dating

———

Elia doesn’t know the song playing over the chatter of people at the party, but he has a sneaking suspicion Nico picked it out. Elia’s third beer is almost empty and he can’t bring himself to be interested in whatever Sana is talking to Martino about, staring across the living room instead, eyes landing on Silvia and Luca snuggled onto Martino and Nico’s new couch, attached at the mouth, as they so often are these days.

“Elia?”

Martino’s voice breaks through the haze in Elia’s brain, and he only now realizes Sana has left and is disappearing into the kitchen with Eva.

“What?” he asks, shaking himself, lifting his empty bottle to his lips and frowning.

“What are you looking at so intently?” Martino asks, eyebrows lifting, and Elia wonders where Nico is. Nico would distract Martino from asking questions like that.

He shrugs instead. “Nothing. Just wondering if Luchino and Silvia are ever coming up for air.”

Martino laughs, glancing over at the couple. It’s kind of like an octopus, limbs everywhere.

“Hey, you missed your chance with her.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia scoffs. He has absolutely no interest in Silvia. Not now, not ever. “He’s welcome to it.”

He still doesn’t understand where Martino and Gio and Nico got the idea to set him up with Silvia. The one bright side to Luchino finally getting with her is that Elia doesn’t have to duck the question of why he’s not interested. There are a million reasons, not least her annoyingly perky attitude, her obsession with the radio, how desperate she was for Edoardo last year (Elia heard all the rumors), but for all the excuses Elia could give, and has given, Martino, none of those are the real truth.

Scanning the room, Elia finds Nico across the room, talking with Gio and Sofia, too far away to get his attention, to get him to stop Martino from watching him curiously.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything serious,” Martino says after a minute, and Elia wishes he had another drink, “but when was the last time you even hooked up with anyone?”

Elia’s gaze falls on Filippo as he steps out of the kitchen, watching the way he crosses the room, coming closer. He looks away quickly, scoffing at Martino instead. “Please, Marti. There was totally that girl at Luchi’s birthday, which you missed ‘cause you were too busy blowing us off to make out with Nico.”

Martino doesn’t even look guilty, shaking his head.

“What is this I hear about boys canoodling?” Filippo steps up to them, and Elia stiffens as Filippo’s arm slides over his shoulders, a hand squeezing his neck.

Martino doesn’t notice, nodding at Filippo. “Elia’s just bragging about some girl he hooked up with, what was that, nine months ago?”

Elia is barely listening to Martino, the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the warmth of Filippo’s arm slung around it. He knows he should be listening and not concentrating on how hot it suddenly is with Filippo next to him.

“Quite the player, aren’t you?” Filippo asks, grinning, pinching Elia’s cheek, and it’s enough to snap Elia out of his momentary panic, slapping Filippo’s hand away. He’s watching Filippo, though, his expression, looking for a change only he might see.

Martino shrugs. “A lot of talk if you ask me.”

“Fuck you, Marti,” Elia says, but he doesn’t want to argue it, not with Filippo’s hip pressed to his in what is probably supposed to be a friendly way, but Elia knows better, and he swallows.

“Nico has aspirations of being a matchmaker,” Martino says, smiling at his boyfriend across the room, and Elia looks away, back to Filippo, who is smirking slightly. “If you don’t get with someone soon, he’s going to try again.”

“I don’t need help,” Elia says, jerking slightly as Filippo pats his shoulder.

“I bet you don’t,” he says, but his hand slides away, and Elia glances at him. Filippo flashes a smile at Martino instead. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m going to use the facilities.”

Elia tries not to watch Filippo go, looking back to his empty bottle.

He’d like to think he has enough willpower to stay in the living room, to follow Martino over to where Nico and Gio are laughing at something, but he veers off at the kitchen, pretending he needs another drink. Instead, he tosses his empty bottle in the trash and heads down the hall.

Martino and Nico’s new apartment isn’t very big, but it’s big enough for a hallway with a few doors set back from the living room.

The bathroom door is shut, and Elia glances back down the hall before raising his fist to knock. Before he can move, though, the door opens and Filippo looks surprised to find him there.

“All yours,” he says, opening the door wider, but Elia doesn’t care about the bathroom.

Before Filippo can step out, Elia pushes him back in, closing the door behind them. Filippo doesn’t look all that surprised now as he leans against the sink.

“Your friends are all out there,” he says, as if Elia doesn’t know. As if Elia doesn’t know he shouldn’t be shoving Filippo in bathrooms at parties where anyone could walk in.

“I just wanted to say that that girl I hooked up with was a long time ago.”

For a second, Filippo doesn’t react, but then he smiles, shaking his head.

“Elia,” he says, stepping forward, hands sliding to Elia’s neck, thumb stroking over his cheek, almost too gently considering they’ve mostly spent the past few months trying to find places to fuck where their friends won’t find them. “I don’t care about anyone you’ve hooked up with in the past.”

Elia swallows, meeting Filippo’s gaze. “Right.” He doesn’t know why he cares, why it was important to tell Filippo that. He starts to move back, but Filippo’s grip stops him.

“I only care that you’re doing it with me,” he says, and Elia feels a weight come off his chest at Filippo’s words, a weight he hadn’t even known had been there. It’s stupid to worry, he tells himself as he smiles at Filippo, curling his fingers into the hem of Filippo’s shirt and tugging him closer. One of the many reasons this is still a secret is because they haven’t defined anything.

Elia isn’t in any hurry to define things either. He likes how easy things are with Filippo, even if it means spending entire parties pretending he doesn’t want to shove Filippo in the nearest bedroom and go down on him.

“Well, I am,” Elia replies, eyes darting to Filippo’s lips, soft and pink in the dim bathroom lighting.

He knows there are people outside the door, people who would care very much to know why he and Filippo are in the bathroom together, people who would be surprised to find out, but he doesn’t care about them right now. Right now, he’s spent the last two hours pretending not to notice Filippo laughing in conversation, flirting with girls he’ll never sleep with, barely glancing his way.

Filippo smiles a second before Elia kisses him, opening his mouth to Elia’s, soft and wet and a little heated as Elia tugs him closer, hands on Filippo’s waist.

Elia’s back hits the door a second later, a gentle clunk behind him, but Elia doesn’t let Filippo go, licking into his mouth and sighing as Filippo presses into him, warm and solid against his chest. Elia doesn’t know when he started wanting this, wanting a guy to pin him to a wall and fuck him so hard he sees stars, but it’s definitely something he thinks about all the time now, ever since Filippo introduced himself way back at Martino’s first radio party.

“So what about this girl,” Filippo says, and Elia blinks through the heady rush of blood in his brain.

“What about her?” he manages to ask, mouth dropping open as Filippo moves to his neck, pressing kisses down the line of his throat.

“What was she like?”

Elia’s eyes close, and he sucks in a breath as Filippo’s hands slide from his neck, pushing under his shirt, fingertips trailing up his stomach. A flush rises deep in his chest, a dull throb of want as he lets himself be pressed into the door.

He barely remembers the girl, and he doesn’t know why Filippo wants to know, but he bites his lip and tries to think, a feat becoming more and more difficult with Filippo sucking a bruise into the hollow of his throat. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be leaving marks, but Elia can’t bring himself to care.

“She was…” he says, unable to concentrate as Filippo’s face replaces the girl in his mind. “She had brown hair, and she was wearing a really short skirt.”

“Did you like that?” Filippo asks, worrying Elia’s skin between his teeth, and Elia bites back a curse.

“Yeah,” Elia admits, sinking his fingers into the short hair at the back of Filippo’s neck. “We were in the kitchen and she sat on the counter. Her skirt rode up pretty far.”

Elia hasn’t thought about the girl in months. He doesn’t even remember her name, and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t recognize her if she walked right past him.

“How about if I wore a skirt,” Filippo says, and Elia shivers as Filippo’s tongue slides up his throat. “Would you like that?”

“Fuck.” Elia’s mind short circuits at the question, and he blinks stupidly at Filippo. He’s never even considered the idea, how hot it might be to see Filippo like that. He shakes his head finally. “You can’t say shit like that when there’s a room full of our friends out there and I have to go back out there and pretend everything’s fine in a minute.”

Filippo grins, smoothing back Elia’s hair and leaning into his lips, not quite kissing him, and Elia follows the movement, growing more desperate by the second. Fuck, he’s never going to last the rest of the evening.

“So you would like that,” Filippo says, as though he already knows the answer. Elia thinks it’s pretty clear.

“I hate you right now,” Elia murmurs against Filippo’s mouth, rolling his hips up to prove his point.

Instead of kissing him, instead of doing anything, Filippo pauses, eyes flicking to Elia’s.

“I’m going to go out there and make a graceful exit,” he says, and Elia barely restrains his groan, disappointment flooding him. Not that he thought they were going to get off in a bathroom not ten feet from their friends. “Then, in five minutes, a whole five minutes, you’re going to tell the boys your mom is asking where you are.”

Elia’s eyebrows rise, interested, appeased, and he exhales slowly against Filippo’s chin as he nods. “And where am I going instead?”

Filippo smiles, licking his lips slowly. “Ele’s going out with Edoardo after this, so the apartment will be empty for at least a few hours.”

“Okay,” Elia agrees, as if he would do anything else. It’s been a whole evening of torture already, having to keep the secret, having to pretend he doesn’t want to be making out with Filippo.

“Okay,” Filippo echoes, and he pulls Elia in for a lingering kiss that makes Elia never want to leave this bathroom, warm and hard and full of promise before Filippo breaks away and reaches for the doorknob. “Five minutes,” he says seriously before opening the door and slipping out.

Elia lets him go, sighing into the empty room and willing down the flush on his cheeks, the grin on his face. Maybe he’ll give it three minutes instead.

[azozzoni]

Elippo Week Day 4: Canon Compliant

—

Flippo would never admit that he was desperate, that it had been months since he’d gotten laid, since a truly cute boy had crossed his path. When he’d run into Dario, he hadn’t imagined it would end with him lugging a box of clothes down the street just for the hope that maybe Dario was interested in him. But he wasn’t desperate.

He should have taken the car, he thought mournfully, as the weight of the box pulled at his arms, but it had been making a weird noise and Eleonora, always the cautious one, had taken the keys until they could get it checked.

He wondered if he was really that desperate, doing all this just for a cute boy. He did have some self-esteem.

“Careful.”

A voice behind him made Filippo pause, eyes falling on the uneven sidewalk in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed, too busy debating whether or not this was worth the trouble.

Glancing behind him to the owner of the voice, he was surprised to see Elia there.

Shuffling the box in his arms, he huffed. “How long have you been stalking me?”

Elia grinned, wide and bright, and Filippo couldn’t help but think of what he’d said to Silvia a few weeks ago. It had all been for show, of course, a favor to Eleonora, talking up Elia, but it hadn’t exactly been a lie. Elia looked better in person, out of that terrible turtleneck that hid his beautiful neck. He was much more dressed down today, in a loose grey tee shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Not long,” Elia replied, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “That’s my building.” He paused, biting his lip, and Filippo didn’t say anything. They definitely had never had a conversation or even been alone together before. Filippo was surprised Elia remembered him. “Where are you going with that?”

Sighing, Filippo set the box down on the sidewalk since the conversation was continuing. Shaking out his arms, he stretched. “It’s a donation, for refugees.”

“Generous,” Elia said, but there was a smirk on his face, as though he knew exactly what Filippo was doing. He couldn’t possibly.

“I am,” Filippo agreed, magnanimous.

Elia paused, eyes darting from the box and back to Filippo’s face, pausing on his lip ring. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Marti’s friend.”

“I know,” Filippo said easily. “Elia, right?”

Blinking, Elia smiled slowly, as though surprised. “Yeah.”

“I never forget a pretty face,” Filippo said, a bald-faced lie. He forgot many people.

Elia laughed, seemingly unphased by Filippo’s flirty response. Most straight guys turned and ran at this point, got all stiff and uncomfortable, but not Elia. He seemed to relax, stepping up to Filippo.

“I was going to get some coffee at the bar,” he said, nodding down the street. “You could give your arms a rest.”

“Is that an invitation?” Filippo asked curiously, watching the way Elia’s cheeks went pink, but he shrugged.

“Unless you want to keep lugging that box around.”

The decision wasn’t exactly hard considering Filippo’s arms felt like rubber and there were still many blocks to go.

“You convinced me,” he said finally, leaning to grab the box, but Elia was faster, scooping it off the ground.

“Fuck, how much stuff is in here?” Elia asked, hefting it up.

“A lot of stuff,” Filippo said, content to let Elia carry it. “I went through Eleonora’s closet.”

“So this is all her stuff?”

Filippo frowned, falling into step next to Elia. “No. I donated some clothes.”

“Maybe I should pitch in,” Elia said, glancing at Filippo.

“If you’re anything like Martino,” Filippo said as they turned a corner and the bar came into view, “you only have three shirts and none to spare.”

“I have a lot of jackets,” Elia offered. “I could probably get rid of some of them.”

“Can’t have you upstaging me,” Filippo said, pulling the door open and letting Elia go in first. “This is my donation.”

At a table by the window, Elia set the box down and slid into the chair, watching Filippo across from him. “Why is this donation so important?”

“It’s helping refugees,” Filippo said easily, the same spiel he’d given Eleonora not two days ago. “Being a good person, giving to the less fortunate…” He paused, glancing at Elia’s skeptical expression. That just wasn’t fair. Elia didn’t even know him. But he sighed. “There may be a cute boy involved,” he admitted, watching Elia’s eyebrows rise. He supposed Elia might be used to this kind of talk, considering he was Martino’s friend. Elia was clearly fine with the gay thing.

“So it’s totally selfless,” Elia said after a second, amused. “Like when Martino joined the radio.”

“I’m being charitable,” Filippo corrected him, and Elia laughed. “And if I happen to get a date out of it, it’s just a fringe benefit.”

“Shit,” Elia said, grinning at Filippo. “I wish I could get rid of some clothes and get a date.”

Pausing, Filippo took in Elia for a second. The truth was, he had never much considered Elia except as one of Martino’s straight friends. Sure, he appreciated him from an aesthetic point of view, with his full lips, deep brown eyes, and soft, fluffy hair, but he’d never really considered him.

“From what I hear,” he said, leaning over the table, “you aren’t really interested in your options.”

Elia frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Wasn’t there a concerted effort to hook you up with Silvia?”

Sitting back, Elia groaned. “You know about that? I have no idea what anyone is thinking. She’s so annoying.”

“Don’t insult my Silvia.”

“I just mean, she’s not my type,” Elia corrected himself.

“And what is your type?” Filippo asked, arching an eyebrow, watching Elia make a face, looking away as he thought. Filippo was beginning to get an idea, but it might have been completely crazy.

“I don’t know,” Elia said after a second, glancing back at Filippo. “I just don’t like being set up. If I wanted to date Silvia, I would.” He paused. “What about you? What about this guy with the donations?”

Filippo smiled easily, letting Elia turn the question around. “He’s just a guy I met.”

“And he made you want to do all this?” Elia gestured at the box at their feet.

Filippo opened his mouth and then shut it as he thought better of his answer. He was so fucking desperate, so desperate that he raided Eleonora’s closet and dragged a box halfway across town just on the off-chance Dario might want to go out with him.

It was pathetic, the lengths he would go to for a cute guy. Filippo should have been ashamed. He wasn’t, though, not really. He liked to think that life was meant to be lived, and if that meant putting himself out there a little too much, he’d do it.

“You never know when the right one is going to come along,” he said finally, smiling at Elia, who seemed to nod thoughtfully.

“Maybe I should donate something too.”

“You could get a date out of it,” Filippo said, watching Elia. He wasn’t all that surprised when Elia met his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip.

Elia was cute, he thought simply. Cute and adorably blunt, and maybe Filippo could weed out some of his worse outfits.

“I’d probably need help,” Elia said after a minute. “Deciding what to donate.”

Nodding, Filippo smiled. He wasn’t thinking of Dario anymore, Dario who was only interested in his clothes, Dario who wasn’t sitting across from him, cheeks pink, as though this was exactly where he’d hoped to end up when he’d left the apartment this morning.

“I’ve got some time now,” Filippo said. “I could help you out.”

“Completely seflessly,” Elia said, and Filippo shrugged.

“If we both get something out of it, maybe it’s for the best.”

Elia laughed, looking away, almost shy. Filippo would never have guessed Elia might be like this, might be interested.

“Okay,” Elia agreed after a moment, looking back finally, any trace of shyness gone. “Let’s go to my house, but you get to carry the box.”

“Generous,” Filippo said, but he didn’t mind as they rose from the chairs and Elia held the door open for him. After all, he might get a date out of this.

[azozzoni]

Elippo Week Day 3: Family

---

“It’s almost ten,” Elia murmured, not protesting against the kiss Filippo pressed to his mouth, slow and searching in a way that made Elia think he could stay right here forever, curled up in Filippo’s bed, the covers kicked down off the foot, a fluffy pile on the floor.

“Mhm,” Filippo hummed in agreement, as though he didn’t care at all what time it was, that they’d been lying like that, Elia halfway on top of him, fingers tracing the outline of his ribcage, lips soft and sore from kissing, for an hour already.

Elia wasn’t complaining either, but his stomach was beginning to get hungry.

“Don’t you want coffee?” he asked, words mumbled into Filippo’s mouth as Filippo kissed him again, and Elia melted into him, rolling fully on top of Filippo now.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, woken up together, Elia telling his mom he was staying at Gio’s, Gio agreeing to cover for him as long as, quote, “You and Filo lock the bedroom door at the next party.” Elia couldn’t promise it, but he’d agreed anyway. It wasn’t the first time Elia and Filippo had spent all morning opting to stay in bed rather than venture into the real world.

It was so easy to give in, Elia thought as Filippo’s hands landed on his ass, so easy to sink his weight on top of Filippo and lick into his mouth, teeth closing over Filippo’s lip ring and sucking it into his mouth.

Elia’s stomach chose that moment to let out a grumble, and he broke away from Filippo reluctantly, pressing a kiss to his chin.

“I need coffee and something to eat,” he said, feeling Filippo’s hand carding through his hair.

Filippo sighed, a huff of hot breath on Elia’s chin, but he didn’t argue as Elia rolled off him. As Elia slid off the bed, Filippo’s hand fell to his stomach and he watched Elia grab his shirt off the floor. He’d run into Eleonora enough times in the morning to be wary of going into the living room in just his boxers.

“Bring me a cookie,” Filippo said, and Elia shook his head, tossing Filippo’s shirt at him.

“If you want it, you have to come get it.”

“Tease,” Filippo muttered, rolling over on the bed.

Elia left him there, smiling to himself as he stepped into the hall and headed for the living room.

Elia had made coffee enough times in Filippo’s apartment to know where he kept everything. The beans were in the cupboard left of the sink, the spoons were in the drawer by the stove, and there was a woman sitting in the chair in the living room.

Stopping short, Elia stared at the strange woman sitting in the living room as though she owned the place, reading a book, but she looked up as he stopped in the doorway.

“Hello,” she greeted him, calmly, as though this wasn’t strange at all.

“Hi,” he said slowly, carefully. Who the hell was this? Where was Eleonora? Glancing back, he hoped Filippo would somehow telepathically know to come out in case this woman turned out to be insane. There was no movement from Filippo’s room. He glanced back at the woman, who set her book down on the coffee table and tucked her brown hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

She smiled easily, like this sort of thing happened all the time. “I’m Antonia, Filo and Eleonora’s mom.”

Oh. Elia hadn’t even thought of that option. Filippo barely talked about his parents. In the whole three months they’d been dating, Elia could only remember one mention of a mother.

“You must be Edoardo,” she said, rising from the chair to shake his hand.

“No, actually,” he said as he shook her hand, glancing back down the hall, but Filippo still hadn’t heeded his silent cry for help. “I’m Elia.”

“Elia,” she repeated thoughtfully.

Elia hesitated, unsure how to proceed. He wasn’t that great with parents. He was pretty sure all his friends’ parents thought he was an idiot. He doubted Filippo’s mom would think any different.

“I was going to make coffee,” he said finally when she didn’t say anything else.

“I’ve already had some,” she said, watching him curiously, and Elia realized as he stood there that he was only in a pair of black boxers and a shirt he wasn’t entirely sure was his. “But don’t let me stop you.”

Elia didn’t head for the kitchen just yet, unsure what he was supposed to be doing. He was pretty sure Filippo’s parents knew he was gay. It wasn’t as if Filippo hid it, but they’d never talked about it, so he could have been very wrong.

Elia’s parents didn’t know. He honestly never planned on telling them because it would just turn into a huge ordeal with lots of trips to church to confess his sins and pray for his soul. He’d rather avoid that if he could.

“Okay, fine, you made me get up. Happy?”

Elia and Antonia turned to the hall at Filippo’s voice coming closer. Elia watched with bated breath as Filippo appeared, not having bothered to put on a shirt, and Elia’s gaze immediately fell to the bruises peppered over his side, evidence of last night. Shit.

Filippo’s eyes found Elia first before landing on his mom, widening in surprise as she smiled at him.

“Mamma. You’re here. Very early.”

“I caught an earlier flight,” she said, and Elia didn’t know her well enough to tell if there was anything pointed about it.

“Oh,” Filippo said simply, glancing at Elia. “I see you’ve met Elia.”

“Yes.”

Elia hesitated, silence falling for a moment between them. “I’ll go get the coffee started.”

Escaping to the kitchen, Elia let out a breath as he pulled out the beans and poured them in the grinder. He could hear Filippo and his mom talking, but the grinder drowned out the words, and he was glad for it. He hadn’t expected to meet Filippo’s mom, especially today, in his boxers.

“Hey.”

Elia jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder, turning to find Filippo behind him. The grinder fell silent and Elia couldn’t help checking that Antonia hadn’t followed Filippo in.

“So that’s your mom,” he said, and Filippo shrugged, tilting his head to the side.

“I didn’t mean for you to meet her like that.”

Elia nodded slowly. “She was supposed to come on a later flight.” He glanced at Filippo, who seemed to know where he was going with this.

“I was going to tell you,” Filippo said simply, pushing his hands through Elia’s hair and nodding against his nose. “It’s just, she always says she’s going to come home and then doesn’t, for one reason or another. I wanted to be sure she was actually here before I invited you to meet her.”

Elia’s eyebrows went up, an unbidden bubble of happiness rising in his chest. God, he was becoming such a sap, just like Marti and Nico. How pathetic.

“You wanted me to meet her.”

“Of course,” Filippo said, as though it was obvious. “She’s hardly around, so we’ve got to jump on the chance while we can.”

“You want me to meet her,” Elia repeated, and Filippo laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Yes. You just did.”

“In my underwear.”

“You look good,” Filippo assured him.

Elia tried not to think too much about this thing with Filippo, about what they were, if they needed to put labels on it. Boyfriend, Elia called him sometimes, but it didn’t always seem right. Maybe it was, though, if the way Filippo was looking at him right now meant anything.

Elia kissed Filippo again, hands settling on his waist. “So should I put on clothes or…?”

“I’d put on clothes.”

Elia turned sharply at Antonia’s voice. She perched in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling at both of them.

“Or else I can’t take you both out for breakfast.”

“Mamma,” Filippo said with a sigh. “Stop scaring my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. Elia couldn’t stop his grin when Filippo said it.

Antonia waved him away. “Elia’s tough. I can tell,” she said, nodding firmly at him. “Now come on, the morning is slipping away.”

Rolling his eyes, Filippo took Elia’s hand, tugging him toward the door. “Forget the coffee.”

Elia caught Antonia’s amused smile as Filippo led him back to the living room. Elia was beginning to like these morning more and more.

[azozzoni]

A day late and a dollar short but a belated birthday elippo for @shadeandadidas

————

It’s the boxers, Elia decides, as he sinks down on top of Filippo, pushes him into the cushions, exhales on a sigh as Filippo presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat. It’s finding Filippo sitting on the couch at midnight eating marshmallow cereal, wearing only a pair of boxers patterned with tiny pink flamingos.

Filippo tastes like sugar with his tongue in Elia’s mouth, lips dragging together, a sharp nip of teeth that makes Elia groan. He tastes like sugar and his hands are all over Elia, fingernails digging almost painfully into Elia’s back, hips pushing up into Elia’s until Elia’s head swims and all he can think about is coming, shuddering against Filippo’s body.

“Fuck, Filo, Filo,” Elia gasps against Filippo’s cheek, skin damp with sweat, fingers rough against Filippo’s scalp, and he comes almost the minute Filippo’s hand slides into his jeans.

Definitely the boxers.

*

Maybe it’s not just that, Elia thinks when Filippo shows up at the bar with Eleonora and slides into the chair next to Elia, a touch too close, a little too friendly when he leans around Elia to talk to Martino.

Elia’s heart beats in his throat even when Filippo doesn’t look at him, barely even acknowledges him. He catches Filippo’s teeth closing over his lip ring, out of the corner of his eye, and he has to excuse himself, hurry away from the table where Martino calls after him to get another round.

He’s not going to jerk off in a public bathroom, but he can hide, just for a moment. Just until the heat rushing to his cock subsides and he can act like a normal person again with Filippo sitting next to him.

When the door opens behind him, he whips around to face Filippo’s knowing smirk as he holds the door shut behind him.

“You’re the worst,” Elia says, grabbing Filippo by his shirt tails and dragging him into a kiss, chasing away any trace of a smirk as he slides to his knees.

If anyone notices that they don’t come back for ten minutes, they don’t say anything.

*

It’s got to be more than the boxers because the boxers aren’t even on, tossed carelessly aside on Filippo’s growing pile of clothes, right next to Elia’s jacket and jeans and shoes.

It’s more than that because Elia’s pulse is racing under Filippo’s thumb, pressing a bruise to his throat as Elia leans into him, hands on Filippo’s shoulders, holding him to the mattress.

“You don’t deserve this,” Elia says as their hips rock together, cock unbearably hard already.

“Nobody deserves anything,” Filippo replies, biting Elia’s collarbone, drinking in his hiss.

“Shit,” Elia breathes, this close to coming, fingers shaky as he pushes them into Filippo’s hair, draws his mouth closer and kisses him.

Filippo’s hands land on his ass, pulling him in tighter, making things hotter, faster. He swears his body convulses when Filippo’s cock glides against his.

“I’m gonna come,” he mumbles into Filippo’s mouth, around his tongue.

“Not yet,” Filippo says, and Elia groans, his whole body throbbing when Filippo breaks away and grabs a condom from the table.

When he does finally come, it’s with Filippo’s name on his lips and his boxers on the floor.

*

Elia doesn’t usually stay. He picks up his shoes, shimmies on his jeans, and pulls on his shirt on the way out. He doesn’t lay around in Filippo’s bed, staring at the picture of Tom Hardy over the headboard.

He doesn’t share a cigarette, lying on his back, an arm flung across the mattress, Filippo next to him scrolling through his phone.

“You haven’t told anyone,” he says, and it’s not exactly a question.

Filippo glances at him, sideways. “Why?”

Elia shrugs, breathing in the cigarette smoke burning his lungs. “Do you want to tell anyone?”

“I don’t have anyone to tell.”

He has a point. Elia frowns.

The cigarette burns down to his fingertips and he smushes it in the ashtray, unable to stop the way he glances at Filippo, not sure what he’s hoping to see.

Filippo sighs, licks his lips, tilts his head toward Elia.

“Do you want to tell anyone?”

Elia doesn’t actually have an answer and Filippo seems to know, tossing his phone aside and rolling on top of Elia.

Elia doesn’t fight him, weighed down by his body, a deep pressure on his chest that makes it hard to breathe. His eyes scrape over Filippo’s lips, soft and pink, the rough stubble on his cheeks that doesn’t match his pastel hair.

“What’s to tell,” Filippo says, dark eyes on Elia’s, darting to his lips and back up. 

What is there to tell? Elia wonders as he takes a deep breath, chest rising under Filippo’s, and he doesn’t try to think a second later with Filippo’s mouth hot against his throat instead.

*

The room sways, awash in blue lights, the throbbing beat of music rattling inside his chest as he dances, jumps around in a crowd of flushed, sweaty teenagers. He’s got his hands on girls, touching their hips, brushing their waists, watching the way they toss their hair over their shoulders and bat their long eyelashes at him.

The room tilts on its axis and Elia stumbles, into Gio, who hauls him upright, shouting something he can’t make out.

Every step makes him dizzy, a struggle to focus even as hands grip his waist and drag him away from the music, away from the buzzing of the bass line, the way it rattles the paintings on the wall.

The night air hits him in the face, not quite cool enough to bring him back into focus.

“Time to get you home.” It’s Gio’s voice in his ear, Gio’s warm hand tucked around his waist, Elia’s arm slung around his shoulder.

“What’s there to tell?” Elia slurs, bumping into Gio as they walk, down an empty sidewalk, through puddles of orange street lamps.

“I don’t know,” Gio says. “What is there to tell?”

For a second, Elia contemplates the question, the answer, what answer he even wants.

“Nothing,” he says after a minute, slumping against Gio and heading into the night.

*

It’s long, slow kisses that stir the butterflies in Elia’s stomach, a flush crawling up his neck as Filippo’s tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every inch until he feels like he can’t breathe and has to pull away.

Filippo’s eyes rest on his lips, gently parted, thumb stroking Elia’s cheek before gripping the back of his neck.

It’s a somersault when Filippo swallows, eyes flicking up to check, just for a second, that Elia is still with him.

“Fuck, Filo,” Elia whispers against his skin, the scrape of stubble along his jaw, and he shudders.

His lips are sore—pink and puffy and tingling—but god, he wants more.

“I want to tell them,” Elia says, breathes the words against Filippo’s jaw line, peppering kisses underneath.

“Who?” Filippo asks, fingers in Elia’s hair, tilting his head back so he can place a barely-there kiss to the corner of Elia’s mouth.

“Everyone.”

He expects Filippo to pause, to let his hand drop from his hair, to contemplate the word as Elia’s heart beats a feverish rhythm in his chest. He expects a “why?” as Filippo frowns at him and his stomach drops.

He doesn’t expect Filippo to nudge his knee in between Elia’s legs, easing into his erection, and jerk his head.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Elia swallows, checks Filippo’s face, but there’s no sign of a joke. Just a tiny smile as he gazes down at Elia squished on the couch beneath him.

“It was the boxers, wasn’t it?” Filippo asks, kissing Elia’s bottom lip, and Elia shakes his head.

“Definitely not,” he lies, wrapping his arms around Filippo’s shoulders and falling into the warmth of his body as he kisses him. Definitely not.

[azozzoni]

Are you still taking requests? I would love if you write Elippo starting to realize they’re having real feelings for each other and it’s not just a several-night stand what they have

“Oh fuck,” Elia cursed, biting his lip against the heat coursing through the body, the pressure of Filippo inside him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Filippo didn’t respond as Elia came, arching off the bed, fingers wrapped tight around his arms.

Sliding down, Elia panted for breath, keeping his eyes closed as the feeling of release washed over him. He’d never imagined sex could be quite as good with a guy as it was with a girl, but Filippo had proven him wrong, several times over.

Lying on Filippo’s bed, Elia sighed, content, sweat drying on his skin, the flush receding. A part of him never wanted to leave this bed, wanted to do that forever.

It had only been a few times he and Filippo had hooked up, a blowjob here, a handjob there, sex in a bathroom once during a party when Elia was supposed to be taking advantage of Gio being gone to talk to Sofia. It was nice, hooking up with Filippo. There were no awkward texts afterwards, Filippo hounding him to go out or talk about their feelings. Elia liked it.

“Satisfied?” Filippo asked, smirking down at Elia beside him as Elia stretched out on the bed, Filippo’s soft white sheets.

Elia laughed. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re really loud,” Filippo replied. “I’m sure the neighbors heard.”

“Fuck the neighbors,” Elia replied despite Filippo’s laugh. He didn’t care who heard them. The sex was damn good and everyone deserved to know. As he lay there, Filippo rolled off the bed, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it on. Elia had no intention of moving, at least for a minute. Glancing over, he let his gaze wander down Filippo’s body as Filippo pulled on his underwear, over his tattoos, colorful and bright against his skin.

“You gotta get up,” Filippo said. “Ele will be home soon.”

Elia hummed, unconcerned. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked before he thought about it and Filippo didn’t look at him, buttoning up his jeans.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow. You can’t come over.”

Filippo checked his appearance in the mirror as Elia watched him, flicking his hair into the right places, inspecting the bruise Elia had left on his collar bone.

“What if we went somewhere?” Elia wasn’t sure why he was asking. It wasn’t as if he cared to see Filippo outside of the bedroom. And he was pretty sure Filippo didn’t care to see him.

“Like a club?” Filippo asked, rubbing at the bruise.

Sitting up, Elia reached for his shirt, pulling it on. “It could just be food or something.” He shrugged.

Filippo paused, looking at him in the mirror before turning to face him. “Like a date?” he asked, eyebrow rising, and Elia scoffed.

“Not like a date,” he said, rolling his eyes. They weren’t dating. They were hooking up. There was a big difference. “Just hanging out. Eating food. No big deal.”

Filippo ran his tongue over his lip ring slowly, and Elia had to look away. It simply wasn’t fair that Filippo could turn him on so easily.

“Typically when you eat food with someone you’re sleeping with, that would be considered a date,” he said, as though explaining it to a child.

Elia scoffed, sliding off the bed and searching for his pants. “Forget it then. It was just a suggestion.”

He didn’t even know why he cared. He and Filippo had slept together a few times. They’d never actually had a conversation longer than a few minutes, and from what Elia knew about dating (which wasn’t much), you needed to do more than that.

Pulling up his jeans, he checked for his phone, ignoring Filippo behind him. He should never have brought it up. Now Filippo probably thought he was interested in that, in dating, and he wasn’t. At least, he was pretty sure he wasn’t. Filippo was Filippo, a good-looking, outgoing, beautiful guy that Elia hooked up with on occasion. He wasn’t anything more than that.

“Elia,” Filippo said as Elia started to leave, pausing at the door and turning to face him. Filippo stood behind him, head tilted to the side. “Would you like to go out with me tomorrow?”

Elia stared for a second and then frowned. “You don’t have to make fun,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m going, okay? I’ll see you next time you want to hook up.”

“And here I thought maybe you’d want to,” Filippo replied before Elia could yank open the door. “But we can keep doing it this way.”

Pausing, Elia surveyed Filippo. They still didn’t know each other well enough to know when the other was joking.

“Are you serious?” he asked after a minute, and Filippo smiled.

“I think you like me, Elia,” he said slowly. “And I think I like you too. So I say we give it a shot.”

It wasn’t how Elia had ever been asked out before, but he couldn’t help the smiling blooming on his face as he came back to Filippo.

“Let’s do it,” he said, planting a kiss on Filippo’s lips as Filippo laughed. “How long do we have until Ele comes home?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Filippo replied, hands sliding to Elia’s hips as Elia grinned.

“Plenty of time,” he allowed, kissing Filippo again. Yes, they had plenty of time.

[azozzoni]

First I want to tell you how much I love you're writing and every day I hope to read something yours! In general, there are few fics with smut in it and I was wondering if you could write one elippo. I noticed that many fanfic has the kink with filippo's piercing on the lip (i can see why, no complaining aha) but I haven't read yet something on elia's earing so, here's my prompt: a smut that start with Filippo that has a thing for Elia's earing and then some hair pulling (if you're in smut obvy)

Elia’s earring was the first thing Filippo noticed about him. Before the goofy smile or his expressive brown eyes. Before the way he hung off Luca, gesturing at Martino with his hands, so enthusiastic about everything he said. It caught the light the first time Filippo saw him, and he thought, What a complete straight guy thing.

Elia turned out to be less straight than he’d first expected, especially when he’d cornered Filippo in the bathroom and dropped to his knees.

But that was months ago.

Now, Filippo had Elia in his bed and straight was the last thing he thought of when he saw Elia’s earring, glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. Elia was supposed to be studying for his exams, but his books were pushed to the end of the bed and he stretched his neck back for Filippo’s mouth instead, bringing his hand to Filippo’s jaw.

Filippo’s tongue flicked over Elia’s earlobe, tugging on the ring lightly, listening for Elia’s inhale, satisfied. It was easy to get Elia excited, and Filippo admitted to taking advantage of it on a regular basis.

“Filo,” Elia murmured as Filippo slid his tongue up his ear, breath ghosting over the shell, tugging on the piercing with his fingers. He knew Elia liked it when Elia’s fingers moved to his hair, tugging at the roots.

Biting down on the lobe, Filippo sucked it into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the piercing. He heard Elia’s soft exhale in his ear, felt him shift up, wrapping a leg around Filippo and pushing his hips up, already half-hard.

“Fuck,” Elia cursed as Filippo slid his tongue inside his ear, his eyes shooting open. “Filo, stop,” he said, breathless, and Filippo grinned as he pulled back, letting his lips glide over Elia’s chin, a slow drag of his nose over Elia’s cheek as he made his way to his mouth.

“Why?” he asked, kissing Elia deeply before he could answer, wet and hot, sliding both hands into Elia’s hair as Elia arched into him.

“Because I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” Elia finally replied, words mumbled into his mouth, unwilling to pull away, eyes closed still as Filippo let his graze up his face.

“That’s kind of the point,” Filippo said, letting Elia kiss him again, tongue sweeping into his mouth, sucking on his lip ring. Where Filippo had a thing for Elia’s stupid straight-guy ear piercing, Elia always seemed to love his lip ring the same.

Elia groaned as Filo’s hands tightened in his hair, twisted around the strands, and Filippo knew he loved this. Elia wasn’t into bland, vanilla sex, not into simply getting off, though Elia had never turned that down either.

“I want to get you off first,” Elia murmured a second later, tipping his chin up to break the kiss, mouthing along Filippo’s jaw, and Filippo felt the blood rushing to his prick as Elia pushed his hips up, grinding them together.

Filippo didn’t argue, letting Elia flip them over, settling back against the mattress as Elia’s hands pulled down his pants, as he pressed his lips down Filippo’s stomach, as he spread Filippo’s legs and leaned into his dick, dragging his tongue over the length.

Letting out a slow breath, Filippo closed his eyes and reached for Elia’s head, carding his fingers through his hair for a second before letting them sink in. He let his mind go somewhere else, focusing on the feel of Elia’s mouth sliding over him, warm and wet, sucking slowly, a build-up Filippo squirmed against.

Elia wasn’t quiet. He never was. But especially as Filippo tugged on his hair, a little too hard, a little too much as Elia went down on him, speeding up, enthusiastic as he sucked him off. He moaned around Filippo’s cock, sending shivers up Filippo’s spine and he gripped Elia’s hair harder, listening for his sharp breath, feeling it against his skin.

It was just as much about Elia as it was about him as Elia moved faster, sucked harder, wrapping a hand around Filippo’s prick and stroking fast and tight.

“Oh, fuck,” Filippo cursed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Elia’s finger, slick with spit somehow, pressing against his entrance, pushing past the tight muscles, grazing over the spot that made him go spineless, melting into the mattress.

Elia pulled away from his cock, lips red and wet as Filippo opened his eyes to gaze at him, mouthing along the ridges instead and groaning as Filippo yanked at his hair as Elia’s fingers found that spot again deep inside him.

“Harder,” Elia breathed, burying his face in Filippo’s thigh, sucking a bruise to the skin, biting down as Filippo tugged at his hair again.

He was close, so close, Filippo thought as his head hit the pillow and Elia’s mouth slid back to his prick, tongue sweeping over the tip, sucking him in as the pressure built up inside his stomach, skin hot, a flush deep over his chest, heat rushing down to his cock as Elia pushed a third finger inside him and he bit back back his curse.

He came with Elia’s name on his lips, listening to Elia’s tiny noises as he gripped his hair hard, maybe too hard, but Elia didn’t complain, stroking him through his climax, taking his time sliding his tongue over Filippo’s prick as he came down.

Taking deep breaths, Filippo sighed, opening his eyes as Elia crawled up, sitting on top of him, loosening his grip and smoothing down the strands of hair as he sat up to meet him.

“Hard enough?” he asked, and Elia grinned, kissing Filippo, and he could taste himself on Elia’s tongue.

“What do you think?” Elia asked, pulling Filippo’s hand away from his neck, pressing it to the hard length under his jeans.

Smirking, Filippo leaned into him, curling his fingers over the bulge and watching Elia’s mouth drop open. Elia was so easy, so into everything Filippo did, and he loved it. How could he have ever thought this boy was straight?

It was that stupid earring, he thought as he pushed his hand under Elia’s waistband, wrapping around his cock and pulling. That stupid earring that he ran his tongue over as Elia gasped in his ear, pushing up into his hand, slightly desperate.

Elia’s hands curled around the back of his neck as Filippo jerked him off, pulling Filippo from his ear to his mouth and kissing him hard as he came, body stiffening against Filippo, coming hot and wet on Filo’s hand.

Filippo always liked this part, the part where Elia breathed out a curse as he relaxed against him, his lips buzzing as Elia leaned into him, breathing heavy, eyes closed for just a second as he came down.

Smiling, Filippo let Elia rest against him for a minute, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the sigh as Elia finally sat up and tilted his head to the side.

“Wasn’t I supposed to be studying?” he asked, grinning when Filippo did.

“I was studying you,” he said with a shrug, and Elia laughed, leaning into his mouth again for a lingering kiss that made Filippo curl his hands around Elia’s waist to keep him there.

“I guess that counts,” he admitted after a minute, not pulling back all that far, and Filippo nodded.

“It completely counts,” he said, pulling Elia’s mouth back to his. Elia was definitely not straight, and Filippo liked it that way.

.